The Last Light
by Sebe
Summary: Post Lucifer Rising. Insane!Sam. Bobby sees the brother's devotion to each other and how wonderful and horrible that is.


Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, the little bundle of crazy that is Sam Winchester, or anything else

Setting: Shortly after Lucifer is freed. Before Bobby was hurt and after hunters attacked Sam.

Summary: Post Lucifer Rising. Insane!Sam. Bobby sees the brothers devotion to each other and how wonderful and horrible that is.

**The Last Light**

Bobby watched from the doorway as Dean brushed the hair back from Sam's too-thin face. He saw Dean's smile falter and his eyes take on a shine as he turned away from his little brother. His little brother who couldn't be bothered to look up from the etchings he was furiously carving into the thick paper with the pencil Dean had given him.

'At least it's not his own arm this time.'

And Sam couldn't be happier, showing Dean the drawings of what he saw in his head at all hours. Scenes of death and bodies and a nightmare landscape that not even Poe or Steven King could dream up edged with Latin scrawled over the pages.

And Sam was smiling.

He couldn't connect it anymore. Couldn't connect the pictures in his head and on the paper to the horror he should be feeling.

Everyone thought Sam was going to turn evil.

Bobby smiled bitterly while he watched the older Winchester sink down against the wall across from his brother, hand to his mouth; his body trembling as he tried to keep in his sobs. Tears fell over the hand covering his mouth.

Sam wasn't evil. Never had been. He'd been manipulated by demons, condemned by hunters, abandoned by angels and tortured into madness, but he was never evil. No, everything Sam did was to protect the ones he loved.

Sometimes that fierce protection just happened to leave behind a body count. But he wasn't dangerous, not really, not unless someone was dumb enough to go after Bobby or Ellen or, god help you, Dean. Then Sam was dangerous, then he was lethal.

But never evil.

Even when Bobby and Dean had found him sitting among a pile of bodies, Sam had only smiled up at Dean and held up his blood covered hands like an offering to his brother, his eyes screaming, 'Look what I did for you. Did I do good? Do you love me now?' And Bobby was struck by the innocence of it all.

Dean, for his part, had been shocked into inaction. Sam had smiled wider and started to cry, still reaching for his big brother. Bobby was once again rendered the part of the observer as Dean wiped the gore and tears from Sam's face and whispered lies in his ear, 'it's alright. It's okay Sammy. I'm not mad. You did fine'. Sam clung to Dean like he was the last light left in the world.

All the youngest Winchester had seen, all he'd done, all that had been done to him and Sam's mind was just…gone…

And Bobby couldn't find it in him to hate that. He couldn't wish the repercussions of a healthy mind on a child who had seen, been through, so much, too much. Bobby thought maybe it was better this way.

And the man hated himself for even the thought.

Sam looked up briefly at Dean (always at his big brother), still sunken down, back against the wall, but more in control now. Or with dry cheeks at least.

Sam took his latest creation and scooted over to the eldest Winchester. He held out the drawing and Dean took it like the brother and almost-parent that he was to the kid.

Bobby couldn't see the drawing, but already knew he didn't want to.

Dean looked though, more tears glistened his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

"It's great Sam"

"The town burnt down around them, but they couldn't get out." Sam said, absolutely beaming at his brother's praise. "The dolls took their eyes. They couldn't even see the stars watching them".

Dean just smiled tightly and nodded.

Bobby thought about why he watched, why he couldn't turn away. Because this was painful, this was cruel…

Dean pulled Sam back against him, Sam's head resting against his shoulder.

Sam looked across Dean, maybe at this amulet, maybe at nothing really. Maybe at something Bobby didn't want to think about.

"Dean…De…I'm sorry…so sorry…"

And that was the worst, Bobby thought. When Sam was almost there. When it seemed the boy was just under the surface, just out of reach.

Dean sobbed and kissed the top of his brother's head, lightly fingered Sam's heavily bandaged arm. Bobby saw blood peaking through. They'd have to change that soon before Sam started trying to paint the walls red again.

"I know Sammy. Me too."

Bobby could take no more; could not make himself watch anymore of the Winchester's pain. _His pain, his boys. _He turned with tears washing down his own face and headed down the stairs.

Soft words between the brothers trailed after the older hunter in the darkness. Whispers full of despair and devotion, madness and love, and Bobby sobbed at the horror of it all.


End file.
